


Stoop Kid Afraid To Leave Stoop

by straightupcreepin



Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 22:39:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16396421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straightupcreepin/pseuds/straightupcreepin
Summary: The Winter Soldier jerked back from Cap and shook his head, eyes wide. Kate didn’t have to hear or understand what he was saying to get the gist of it.“Stoop kid afraid to leave stoop,” she whispered.Falcon turned to her with brows raised. “What?”Kate colored. Had she said that out loud?Yikes.“Nothing.”Post CA:TWS, Kate Bishop finds a hypothermic supersoldier out in the snow and calls Captain America to come get his boy. Hijinks ensue.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I wrote an entire fic based on an obscure Hey, Arnold! reference.
> 
> Prologue is from Bucky's POV, the rest is from Kate's. Hope you enjoy!

His functionality had been steadily decreasing since he’d fallen from the sky for a second time.

Not fallen, technically. Jumped. Spurred on by a compulsion he didn’t know how to explain, as it went directly against orders. Against everything they’d made him to be.

The Winter Soldier did not save lost souls from the watery depths of the river. The Winter Soldier put them there. That was how it had always happened, before the Man on the Bridge. 

Before Steve.

That encounter hadn’t been like any other he’d had since he had become the Iron Fist of Hydra. Since he had been broken, dashed against a mountain side, and made new in their image like some perverse mirror of the Bible. A fallen angel forged in ice and made into their weapon. Their demon. Their Soldier.

It was perhaps more surprising that it had taken his capabilities this long to deteriorate.

But then, the Winter Soldier had never been on his own for this long, either. He’d been called back to base, or forcibly extracted should his programming have gone awry, should human feelings have been allowed to surface enough for terror to manifest and the instinct to flee catch hold in his chest.

There was no one to chase him now. Hydra had fallen, one Head dashed and the many tentacles scattered like dust in the wind. A new Head would take its place in time, but Bucky intended to be deep underground by then.

He wouldn’t fall a third time. He was determined on this point. Current mission objective: survive.

Surviving, it turned out, was not as simple as humankind made it appear. There were many tedious tasks involved. Feed the body, wash the body, lay down and give the body rest. Shield sensitive skin from the sun. Avoid prolonged wearing of wet clothes that will chafe and rub and stick to the skin. Take shelter in inclement weather to avoid getting clothing wet in the first place.

The fist of Hydra had not been taught to survive on its own, severed by force from the Body. Diseased limbs were to be removed and replaced with something stronger. They were not to go on living as if they were anything more than an extension of the body itself, of Hydra. Soldier was the living parable of this principle.

Or at least he had been. Now he was free, and he was learning.

It was to his detriment that he had not learned enough. He hadn’t yet learned to fear the cold.

Why would he? He was Winter made flesh, they had told him this. He was the ice that froze the enemy’s veins. He was the wind that whistled into every errant nook and cranny, seeing all. Reaching all, no matter how well it was guarded or how well it had been hidden. He was the sudden storm, striking hard and fast and blinding.

Cold was a part of who he was. It had been there at his birth, falling through snow, and at his remaking. Cold meant Siberia, which he had no love for but he knew. It was familiar ground, the place he had been broken and rebuilt. 

It was also the place where they put him to rest. Between missions, between handlers, he had been placed in the cryo tube and switched off, like a machine. It wasn’t sleep, wasn’t rest, not really. But it was quiet, and the closest thing to peace he could remember experiencing since he’d woken that first time, mid-operation and filled with horror, in a Hydra lab.

This was perhaps the final nail in the coffin, solidifying his departure from Hydra and from the mantle of the Soldier. The Winter Soldier didn't notice the cold, barely felt it. But Bucky Barnes, or whoever he was becoming now…

The wind cut through the worn out places in his stolen clothing, icy tendrils burning his skin. His limbs slowed and his head felt thick and heavy, as if it were stuffed with cotton wool. He didn’t notice that it made things more difficult until he stumbled into someone who yelled at him in a language he didn’t comprehend but knew he should. (English? Was it English?) He mumbled an apology in Russian and veered out of the main path of foot traffic, sticking closer to the walls of buildings.

He stopped for a few moments and wrapped his flesh arm around himself, shivering violently as he tried to take stock. Focus.

Shelter. This was just like other weather patterns, only colder. He needed to seek shelter and wait for the snow storm to pass. He wandered aimlessly down side streets for a while, taking a turn whenever he saw people ahead. His focus had been compromised – instinct told him to stay out of sight, avoid any exploitation of his weakness.

And wasn’t that a funny sort of dissonance in itself? The Soldier wasn’t meant to have weaknesses. And while Bucky wasn’t _him_ anymore, being the Soldier was still what was familiar to him, would still be a part of whoever he ended up becoming. The Soldier's life was the only one he remembered in any kind of solid way – the time before was just a dream, half-remembered pieces not connecting with his waking self.

Eventually he found himself in a mostly residential neighborhood, several tall, sort of run down apartment buildings scattered about. It felt familiar but Bucky couldn’t for the life of him say why, couldn’t _remember_. But the familiarity made him feel safe, so when he spotted a building that had a bit of shelter over the front stoop, he stopped and huddled into the corner, turning his collar up and closing his eyes against the cold.


	2. Chapter 2

So the thing about dogs was that they didn’t care if there was a freaking snow storm outside – when they had to pee they had to pee, and they let you know that.

Lucky was no different than other dogs in this and since Clint had ditched them earlier because _“I have a thing with a guy and some stuff”…_ Kate was stuck on doggy doodoo duty.

Hooray.

She jammed her feet into boots and her arms into a coat and her hat onto her head. She scowled as she stomped her way downstairs, Lucky leading the way wagging his tail, unaware or uncaring of the trouble he was causing his human companion. Or both. Probably both.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she grumbled with a dark look as he puttered around outside. Lucky's opinion on snow was veeery different from Kate’s. She did not appreciate it, and he liked to jump in it and catch snowflakes on his tongue like a weirdo. So he was taking his sweet ass time, enjoying himself while she froze her ass off. “I could be on a _beach_ somewhere right now.” She huffed. “Why’d I let Clint talk me into coming back here?”

Oh, right. Because the Avengers needed a B team, and Kate would have had to be an idiot to pass that opportunity up. She had _Captain America's_ cell phone number. She hadn’t used it, but she had it. She'd even been invited to a dinner hosted by _Tony Stark_ (Pepper Potts, really, which was actually even cooler), not because of who her dad was but because of _her_. She’d sat next to Thor, whose biceps were even more impressive than they look on TV.

And, okay. She got to work with America and Cassie and Billy and Teddy again, too. That was also a plus. Even if America liked to flirt with her sometimes and make her ten different kinds of confused and flustered and, like, _blushy_. (That might also be a bonus, actually, if she was being honest. She just hadn’t figured out what to do with it yet.)

All in all, her life was pretty great. It was just hard to remember that when it was _cold as balls_ outside.

Lucky finally got his shit together (figuratively, not literally, thank _God_ – she was fairly certain the combination of snow and fresh dog shit would _not_ be pleasant) and turned a patch of the snow a little less white and a little more yellow. “About damn time,” she grumbled, and was about to haul his ass back inside where the sane people wanted to be, when –

“Hey! Avenger lady!”

Ah, geeze.

This was it. The thing she hated about being B Team. Sure, being recognized could be kind of cool sometimes. Little girls asked for her autograph, she was a role model, it was great! But other times it was just really, really, really inconvenient.

Like right now.

“Look, dude,” she sighed, turning towards the voice. The owner of said voice turned out to be a boy, about twelve years old, that she’d seen around the neighborhood before but never spoken to. “It’s cold. Can I sign your hat or whatever next time we catch each other at the bodega?”

The kid rolled his eyes, which: _rude_. “If I wanted an autograph I’d ask someone cool, like Black Widow. But we need help.”

“Woah, okay,” Kate held her hands up. “Not good enough for an autograph but good enough to save your ass?”

“Do you see any other superheroes around? Genuinely asking.” He glanced around like one might appear. _Sorry kid. Tough luck._ “This is _kind of_ urgent. Can you just come with, please?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just started marching onward. “Well, Lucky,” she grumbled under her breath as she followed, “guess you’re getting a longer walk than we planned. What’s going on?” She asked, louder this time. “And what’s your name?”

“Carlos Ramirez,” he pulled his hat down lower so it’d cover his ears. “There’s a guy at our apartment building and he won’t leave. Keeps yelling stuff if we get too close. He won’t let us inside, and Ma's worried about my sister. She’s too little to be out in this shi – uh, stuff.”

“Relax, kid,” she clapped a hand on his shoulder, briefly, “I'm not gonna tell your mom if you say 'shit'.”

He had the grace to look grateful for that, at least.

-

Kate didn’t exactly have a bow stashed in her coat. Didn’t have anything, in fact, except her cellphone, house keys, and some pocket lint. But she was a superhero – she figured she could use her moderate celebrity as clout. And if that didn’t work, well, she was known to have kicked some ass on occasion.

She had enough training to handle one belligerent dude-bro, right?

Said dude-bro, when they approached the Ramirez’s apartment building, turned out to just be a sad drunk homeless guy. Kate’s shoulders lowered as she took in the signs: tattered clothes, greasy dark hair, huddled into the corner. It was fucking freezing, she didn’t blame him for trying to find a place where the snow wasn’t actively trying to bury him. And she didn’t make a habit of kicking homeless people off stoops. But if he wasn’t letting anybody in or out…

Maybe she could convince him to go to a shelter. Somewhere with an _indoors_ , so he wouldn’t freeze to death. Yeah. That was what she’d do. Great plan, Kate.

She followed Carlos over to a small group clustered across the street, comprised of a woman holding a toddler and the hand of a boy about eight, all of whom bore a strong family resemblance to her new Junior arch nemesis. She handed Carlos Lucky’s leash and shot him a look – “Don’t lose my dog.” – before turning to his mom with her best Confident, Professional Superhero smile. “No need to worry, ma’am. I’ve got this.” The woman didn’t look convinced, but Kate gave a little nod anyway, and then turned to march across the street.

The closer she got the more pathetic the guy looked. He was huddled into the corner, eyes closed, and seemed for all intents and purposes to be asleep. He looked like he could use a few good meals. And a blanket. Probably some antibiotics. He was feverish and twitchy, and mumbling in his sleep. He had dark circles under his eyes and an unhealthy pallor to his cheeks.

“Hey,” Kate said gently, nudging him with the toe of her boot. Ice blue eyes snapped open immediately and zeroed in on her with an alarming intensity. _Okay, creepy._ “Sorry, buddy. But you can’t be-“

There was a slight whirring sound, almost robotic, and the next thing Kate knew she was flying backwards through the air and landing in a snowdrift. She laid there for a second, dazed with the wind knocked out of her, before sitting up.

The guy was standing now and shouting something at her in a language she didn’t understand, but had spent enough time around to recognize: Russian. At least this guy didn’t look like he belonged to the Tracksuit Mafia. (If she had to hear them say _bro_ one more time, she was gonna flip her shit, bro.) He made a few emphatic statements, growled out in Russian with accompanying gestures, and sank right back down into the same position he’d been in before. Like nothing had happened.

“Weird,” she breathed, and gingerly climbed to her feet. Dusting herself off, she gave Crazy Eyes a wide berth and crossed over the street again.

“I told you he was scary,” Carlos pointed out.

Kate stuck her tongue out at him. Little know it all. “Okay. New plan.” She took her keys out of her pocket and tossed them to him. “You know my building, apparently. I’m in apartment H.” Okay, technically Clint was in apartment H, but Kate stayed there about half the time anyway. She practically lived there. “You guys take Lucky up there. It’s a little messy,” she warned Ms. Ramirez with an apologetic shrug. “But it’s warm and there’s a tv and snacks. I’ll keep an eye on things here until I can get some back up.”

She waved off Ms. Ramirez’s thanks and watched until they reached the end of the street and turned the corner. Then she sat on the steps of the building behind her and chewed her lip.

Kate had a feeling about this guy, like maybe she should know who he was. She mentally ticked off everything she knew about him. Scary eyes. Long dark hair. Russian speaker. He’d tossed her through the air like a damn rag doll, so there was definitely some super strength involved as well.

And then there was the whirring sound she’d heard, soft but distinctly mechanical…

Oh. Shit.

Kate pulled her cellphone out of her pocket and dialed the number she’d never used.

“Hi, Mister, uh… Captain, sir?” She swallowed. “I think I found your friend.”

-

Captain America showed up fifteen minutes later in jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket, slightly out of breath. Like he’d run all the way there, as fast as his super legs could carry him. From _Midtown_. He barely even glanced at Kate, eyes locking in on Sad Hobo across the street. 

Kate had encountered Cap before, on a few occasions. Usually when he was yelling at her and her friends to stay out of trouble. Or when he was punching bad guys in the face and whacking them with his shield. Bottom line was, he had always seemed like a person who had it together, one hundred percent of the time. But now he looked… thrown. Lost. _Heartbroken._

It was kind of freaking her out a little bit.

“Did he hurt anyone?” Cap asked, softly, like he was afraid of the answer.

Kate thought about how sore her ribs and back were, but she’d had worse. A couple of sessions with the heating pad and some ibuprofen and she’d be okay. She shook her head. The answer was worth it to see the way Cap’s shoulders loosened in relief. “He just doesn’t want to let anyone close.”

“Thank you,” he told her, with a hearty dose of Patriotic Sincerity. “Thanks for keeping an eye on him.”

Kate watched him cross the street. “No problem,” she told him, staying where she was, as Falcon landed a few feet away from her.

Falcon. Cap. Yep. She was in Big League territory now.

“Steve…” Falcon, hands on his hips, cautioned gently. But Cap kept walking. Falcon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah,” he mumbled, like he was answering himself. Like this was exactly what he expected.

Cap bent down in front of Sad Hobo and spoke, too quiet for Kate to hear. Sad Hobo (which was somehow less awkward and sad than thinking of him as _the Winter Soldier_ , and way less sad than thinking of him as James Buchanan Barnes, Captain America’s childhood best friend turned brainwashed super soldier) lifted his head, that laser sharp focus zeroed in on Cap now. But he didn’t say anything and he didn’t move.

So Cap kept talking to him in that steady, quiet voice and eventually reached a hand out to him. Sad Hobo jerked back and shook his head, eyes wide. Terrified. Kate didn’t have to hear or understand what he was saying to get the gist of it.

“Stoop kid afraid to leave stoop,” she whispered.

Falcon turned to her with brows raised. “What?”

Kate colored. Had she said that out loud? _Yikes._ “Nothing.”

A few minutes later Cap had managed to convince his …friend?... off the stoop and out into the cold. He had even slipped his jacket off and wrapped it around Sad Hobo's shoulders. Cap gently herded him towards the end of the street, where Falcon had helpfully reported a car was waiting. Kate trailed after them, since it seemed polite and all, and she had to walk back that way anyway.

Halfway there, Sad Hobo stopped suddenly and swung around to look up at Cap with wide eyes that seemed like they were seeing him but _not_ seeing him, somehow. "Steve," he mumbled feverishly, clutching at the collar of Cap’s shirt. “ _Steve_! Where's your coat? You can't be out in this, you'll-"

"Shhh, shh, it's okay, Buck." Cap put his hands on Sad Hobo's shoulders and rubbed his arms, soothing him. "I gave my coat to you, remember? Just a few minutes ago. You don’t have to worry, I'm fine."

“But you’ll get sick.”

“I won’t.” He gripped his arms tighter and smiled at him. “I promise.”

Sad Hobo shot him some truly epic side eye. Truly. Kate was impressed. Guy might not have been entirely lucid, but he could still throw shade. "Yeah okay, sure, pal. But the last time you said that you ended up with pneumonia. I ain't forgotten."

Cap looked like he was about to cry, and Kate figured it was because _last time_ had probably been somewhere around 1935. He didn’t say anything to that – didn’t look like he _could_. He just slung his arm around Sad Hobo instead, who placidly allowed them to shuffle him forward again.

"Wow," Kate, watching them, murmured half to Falcon and half to herself. "So they’re just all the way, one hundred percent, butt crazy in love. Aren't they?"

“Yep.” Falcon confirmed, grim but resigned.

“That’s the sweetest, most tragic thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Yep.” He said again, and sighed the bone deep sigh of someone watching their friend be a monumental idiot. Kate got that. She felt the same way watching Clint’s disaster love life. 

They stood in silence as Cap tenderly loaded Sad Hobo into the back of a waiting SUV. Falcon waited until the door shut behind them to press a button on his sleeve, unfolding his wings. "Thanks for calling it in, kid."

Kate tipped her head back, watching him launch into the sky as the car pulled away. “You’re welcome, I guess,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes as Falcon grew smaller in the distance and eventually disappeared behind the city skyline, headed towards the Tower. The A Team were a bunch of show offs. “Also, not a kid.”

But whatever.

She rolled her shoulders and stretched her back before pointing her feet down the street. Time to release the Ramirez’s out into the wild, cuddle up on the couch with Lucky, and eat all of Clint’s food. Assuming, of course, that there was any.

She hoped Clint had remembered to record the last episode of Dog Cops. She had to know what happened with Captain Barks’ Internal Affairs case. _Had to_.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a few weeks after the big snow storm and all the associated drama, and the holiday celebrations were in full swing. Specifically the Avengers Holiday Party at the Tower, an event to which Kate - as a member in good standing of the B Team and savior of sad super soldiers - had been invited.

She felt pretty good about it. There had been no last minute alien invasion or Doom Bot attack to distract from the holidays. The food, as always, was amazing. Teddy had liked the mittens she’d gotten for him for the Secret Santa exchange, and she’d gotten a lovely scarf from Bruce Banner. Her hair hadn’t frizzed out and her purple party dress looked bangin'. She was feeling good. Better than good, after a glass of fizzy champagne. She felt giddy, maybe even a little bold.

Bold enough that when she’d found America standing under a sprig of mistletoe, she had shoved Billy out of the way so she could get to her and plant a kiss on her cheek, near the corner of her mouth.

The lip print was still there. It was making her stomach do little somersaults.

She grabbed a canapé off a passing tray, because stuffing her face was always the answer to emotions she was trying to figure out how to handle. Kate had it halfway to her lips when she felt a tap on her shoulder and, turning, found herself face to face with the Winter Soldier.

Everyone else was dressed in formal party attire, but Bucky Barnes was wearing sweatpants and a dark blue, old man style cardigan he had almost definitely borrowed from Captain America. His metal hand was shoved in the pocket of said sweater, like maybe he was actively trying to not draw attention to it, and his hair was pulled back out of his face in a little bun. The dark circles under his eyes were still there, but the scary robot vibe was gone and his skin had a little more color to it. He was officially the softest cinnamon roll assassin ever. 

Cap clearly agreed. He was standing beside and a little behind him, with a grin wide enough to split his face in half and a supportive hand on Barnes' back. “Hi, Kate,” he greeted her. “Enjoying the party?”

“Very much,” Kate said in her Polite Grown Up voice, posture straightening out of her usual slouch. Captain America made you want to be your best. “Thank you. How about you guys?”

“It’s great. Isn’t it, Bucky?” He gave his boo-thing a gentle nudge.

Barnes nodded, and that seemed to be it. But Cap nudged him again and he shuffled his feet and looked somewhere to the left of her, like making direct eye contact was a struggle for him. "I'm sorry for throwing you into a snowdrift," he murmured, voice a little gruff, a little stilted, but steady. Cap beamed even harder at him.

Since Kate's bruises had long since healed and she was still feeling buoyed up by the champagne, she felt no hesitation in accepting this apology. Probably wouldn't have anyway - it wasn't like the guy had been exactly with it. (Turned out super soldiers _could_ get hypothermia, if they were malnourished enough. Add that to some brainwashing? Yikes. No wonder the guy had been a little grumpy.)

"It's okay," she shrugged. "I get thrown into-and-off-of stuff all the time. It's a Hawkeye thing." They all glanced towards where Clint was, for some reason, perched precariously on the bar. He was definitely going to throw himself off, at some point. If Natasha didn’t push him first. Kate rolled her eyes and turned back to Captain and Mr. America. They were better looking than Clint anyway. "I'm just glad you're feeling better."

He nodded, and turned his head to whisper something to Cap before slipping off through the crowd.

"He's a little tired," Cap explained to her, still beaming. "I think we're going to leave now. But..." He swept her up into an unexpected, crushing hug. It was pretty great, like the kind of hug you'd imagine Mr. Rogers would give. The _other_ Mr. Rogers, from the kid's show with the trolley and the puppets. That level of warmth and human kindness. (Wait a minute, were they related? Kate made a mental note to ask at some point.) 

"I just wanted to thank you, so much, for what you did,” he told her. “For finding him, and calling me. You're a good person, Kate. Merry Christmas." He topped it off by kissing her cheek before pulling back, blushing furiously. He gave her a little wave before speeding off to the elevators after Barnes.

She wasn't sure, but it definitely looked like they might have been leaning into each other for a kiss as the doors closed on them.

Kate stuffed the entire canapé into her mouth to stop herself from reacting in any kind of visible or audible way. Like, for instance, shrieking and passing out the same way she had at her sixth birthday when her parents had presented her with an actual unicorn. (It had turned out to just be a pony with a shiny paper horn stuck on its forehead, but shut up, she hadn't known that at the time.)

Someone came up beside her as she was chewing and slung an arm around her shoulders. Kate startled and looked up to find America smirking at her, brows raised. "Saw you with the big guy just now. Do I need to be jealous?" She teased.

The lip print was slightly smudged but still there. Kate's cheeks burned, but she lifted her shoulder in a shrug and directed her gaze out towards the party. "I don't know, maybe." She said lightly. "He's kind of my type."

"Big, blonde, and muscly?"

"Nah. Super strong and bad ass with a patriotic name. Looks good in red, white, and blue.”

"...Oh yeah?"

 _Breathe, Kate, Breathe._ "Yep!"

If her voice came out a little shrill, it didn't seem like America noticed. Or if she did, she didn’t care. She studied Kate’s face for a moment and then reached for her hand. So they were holding hands now. That was a thing. "Come on," she said, and tugged Kate deeper into the room.

"Okay." Kate was walking on air, she was pretty sure. She’d follow America just about anywhere right now, so she didn’t really care about the answer when she asked - "Where are we going?"

America’s grin made her heart race. "Back to the mistletoe."

Kate squeaked like an undignified mouse, but did not complain. She definitely didn’t complain.

Was this karma paying her back for bringing Barnes home? It felt like karma. As America’s arm slipped around her waist, Kate made a mental note to engage in more random acts of kindness. The universe really did make sure it paid off.

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this silly little fic! Hope you liked it - let me know in the comments!


End file.
